


A Place at the Table

by sartiebodyshots



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Femslash February, Giving Sera what everyone wanted to give Sera
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 11:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9722486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartiebodyshots/pseuds/sartiebodyshots
Summary: Not everyone in the Inquisition approves of the company the Inquisitor keeps.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A little wish fulfillment for Valentines Day never hurt anyone, right?

Sera sits up in the Herald’s rest.  She sticks her legs through the railing and just… perches.  It’s a nice spot; nobody notices her unless she looks up, but she can hear the chatter of the masses.  

Mostly she sits here when she’s bored or waiting for her Inky to show up.  Right now, Ianthe is downstairs chatting quietly with Iron Bull, but Sera knows she’ll come up eventually.  

The babble is a comforting lull.  Honestly, Sera is about to fall asleep, tired from a long day of organizing information from Jennies.  It wouldn’t be the first time she’s fallen asleep here, and a nap does sound good.  

But then she hears someone say her name.  

“...Sera or Sadie or whatever that annoying elf is called,” some guy below her says.  “She’s a public menace!  She left a dead rat in my chair, just last week.  And she spends far too much time with the Inquisitor, so you can’t even bring her up on charges.”

Sera leans forward a little, so she can see who’s talking.  Aaah, Lord Makes-the-Female-Servants-Uncomfortable.  Prick.  She’s got more planned.  Pies aren’t a crime anyway.

“Not that I would ever impugn the Inquisitor herself, but the company she and that brother of hers keep…” Lady Cheats-on-her-Husband says, tutting.  “Between that wretched elf and that Tevinter magister, I have to wonder.”

“I fully agree,” Lord Makes-the-Female-Servants-Uncomfortable says.  “The both of them ought to be kicked out.  That stupid elf first of all.  It’s the only downside of this marvelous little Inquisition.”

Sera giggles a little to herself because like  _ that _ is going to ever happen.  Maybe Sera hadn’t expected Ianthe to accept her for who she is, but by the Maker, she sure has.  For the first time, she feels comfortable somewhere, and some noble shitheads aren’t going to upset her  _ here _ .  

Silence sweeps over the tavern, and Sera looks down.  She’s surprised to see Ianthe crossing the room and approaching the two oblivious nobles.  

“If there’s something wrong with the Inquisition, I ought to know,” Ianthe interjects, using the same voice that she uses when she’s judging Skyhold prisoners.  It sends a shiver down Sera’s spine. “So, please, inform me.”

The nobles stutter, clearly trying to figure out what to say.  

“I am waiting,” Ianthe says, crossing her arms and staring down at the two.  

“We simply thought that-” the lord starts before the lady kicks him under the table.  “Ouch!”

“If you have concerns about how I spend my time, have the courage of your convictions, at least.  Or else leave,” Ianthe says.  

The woman gets to her feet, which is wise if somewhat disappointing.  She keeps her head ducked, refusing to make eye contact with anyone else.  Her footsteps are heavy in the unusually quiet tavern until the door squeaks open and shut.  

The man, on the hand, looks up at Ianthe.  His snooty posture makes Sera lean forward a little.  This should be good.  Or maybe bad.  Depends.

“Some people simply have concerns about what kind of influences you’re surrounding yourself with.  A Tevinter?  A troublesome elf?” the man says, shaking his head.  “You could have the finest chevaliers from Orlais!  Or the elite from the Ferelden military!  People who befit your prestige and rank.” 

“You seem very concerned.”  Ianthe clicks her tongue.  “You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?” 

The man brightens a little, clearly expecting to have been rebuffed by now.  “Yes!  You are our Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste!  You deserve the best.”

“Sera is the most wonderful woman that I have ever met, and this Inquisition needs her.  She is kind, she is smart, and if she’s left a dead rat on your chair, then my guess is that you’re not a very good man,” Ianthe says, voice quaking.  “And Dorian has done far more to prove his loyalty and better the world than you ever have.”

“But-”

“My recommendation to you is to never insult the Inquisitor’s girlfriend or the Inquisitor’s brother’s boyfriend.  Or, really, anyone the Inquisitor cares for deeply.  At the very least, don’t do it in her tavern, or at  _ least  _ look to see if she’s standing in the corner.  I’m seven feet tall, have horns, and my hand glows.  I don’t exactly blend in,” Ianthe says, shaking her head.  

“I was simply-”

“I don’t care,” Ianthe says flatly before going back to her big I’m-the-Inquisitor-Chosen-of-Andraste voice.  “Sera is important, and when you insult her, you insult the Inquisition.  The Inquisition doesn’t take kindly to insults.”

By now, Sera has pressed her face against the spindles of the railing, not quite sure she believes what’s happening.  Telling all their inner circle companions was one thing.  A good thing!  More than Sera had expected.  Everything about Ianthe was more than she expected.

But announcing their relationship to the tavern?  Proclaiming her importance to weird, uptight lords and ladies who probably wouldn’t do anything to her other than words?  Hm.  Way more than she expected.  

“Then I apologize to the Inquisition,” the man says, sounding like a goat is sitting on his chest.  

“For?” 

The man sighs, pressing his lips together.  He seems to be weighing his options.  

“For disparaging the Inquisition’s good name, as well as yours and your brother’s,” he finally says.  

“And?”

“For insulting the elf and the Tevinter.”

“They have names.  Nice ones.”

“I don’t know them.”  His voice drops to a whisper that’s difficult to hear.

“You should leave.  Now,” Ianthe orders.

He looks so close to arguing, but he gets to his feet and bows before fleeing the room.  Even after he’s gone, the tavern is still silent and Ianthe looks around, shoulders relaxed and a friendly smile on her face.  A woman again, not an Inquisitor.  Or at least as close as she can get in public.

“Are we gawking or drinking?” she asks.

Everyone hurries back to their drinks, chatter quickly filling the room again.  The sound makes Ianthe relax further, and she gives Bull a wave before heading towards the stairs.  She walks slowly, shaking her head and murmuring something to herself.  The blasted chatter makes sure that Sera can’t hear what it is.

When Ianthe catches sight of her, legs still kicking through the spindles, her eyes widen in surprise, like she didn’t know Sera was there.  She takes the steps three at a time, suddenly in a rush.  

“Sorry,” Ianthe says when she reaches her, squatting down so they’re level.  

“What for?” Sera asks, frowning.  

She gets to her feet so Ianthe doesn’t have to squat.  Her girlfriend has enough work to do as it is.  

“For what they said!  I didn’t want you to hear,” Ianthe says.  

Sera laughs, taking her hand as they head to her bedroom.  “I’ve heard worse.  Don’t care much.  They’re knobs.  What interests me is you.”

“Me?” Ianthe says.

They sit in the window seat, and Sera climbs into Ianthe’s lap.  She stretches her legs out, leaning backwards with a deep, content sigh.  Her girlfriend just radiates warmth, both body and soul.  

Ianthe wraps her arms around Sera, holding her securely, if not too tightly.  Good, good.  Her hair- out of its usual bun, for once- flows freely, tickling Sera as they snuggle up together.  

“Of course you.  You told  _ everyone _ about us.  I mean, I know you told our friends, but that’s different than announcing it to everyone because they’re twats,” Sera says. 

“Did I make you uncomfortable?” Ianthe asks, concern lacing her voice.  

“Nah.  But why?” Sera asks.

“What?”

“It was just words.  Heard worse.  Not used to anyone caring, really,” Sera explains with a shrug.  

“Well, I care, Sera.  Unless it makes you uncomfortable, I’m not going to ignore people being rude to you, especially not here,” Ianthe says.  

“What if it causes problems?  With the noble shits or whatever?” Sera asks.  

“We don't need allies like that,” Ianthe says simply.  

Sera had kind of assumed that this was a conditional sort of support.  Free defense until it becomes too much of a pain.  But apparently not.  Weird.  From anyone else, she'd assume that it's bullshit, but Ianthe accepted it when Verchiel went tits up and when she wanted to like cookies again.  She's also one of the only people to really get her pranks.  

“Oh.  Well, good then!” Sera says, trying to sound totally unsurprised.  

“So, you're okay with it?”  Ianthe says.  

“‘Course,” Sera says.  “Just was curious is all.”

Ianthe presses her lips to the top of Sera’s head, inhaling deeply.  It sends shivers straight down Sera’s spine.   

They sit in silence for a while, the raucous laughter bubbling through the floorboards.  Sera’s not sure that she's ever felt more still.  


End file.
